Reilly was also a sap with hands full of slivers (10 years later, they're still free).
Gardeneering some Mattocked soil. Jar tests reveal: the soil is dirty. We'll give the eggplants another shot because the first round was just a sorry abortion.
May is Bike Month. Too bad it's also Windy as Hell Month. As a matter of fact, I may be one of the last chumps to wallow in the thickets above Santa Barbara, which are now so much ash. Hopefully the ticks received their karmic payback. Zen Master Mark is living proof of the efficacy of possessing a life that can be stuffed in the back of a '97 Saturn.
Celebrated the latest Holocaust in grand style at the downtown Farmer's Market. More of a parade than a venue for selling produce to Vegan Yoginis, guilt-driven high monkey monks, and the poor college kids trying to be one or the other. Found myself at intimate joint off the highway basking in Empowerment, feminist-style...but this time with outstanding vocals and songwriting Nobody expects the trombone, but there it is. Cosmological discussions immediately followed.
No comments:
Post a Comment